Angels and Wormholes

The Kaax Station

"This is valuable equipment," Ocepaxarel clucked. "If you damage it, we will expect compensation."

"Absolutely." Jordan rotated the sphere with his left hand while holding the pen up to it with his right. "You don't need to worry about that. Of course," Jordan looked up at Ocepaxarel, "that's not really what you're worried about, is it?" Jordan paused for a moment, then looked back down at the sphere.

Ocepaxarel looked to the side. "Just please hurry up," he clucked. "This is a terrible inconvenience."

Jordan made his way around the circumference of the sphere and clicked off the pen, placing it on the floor. With both hands, he carefully worked the two halves of the sphere apart. One piece came away completely, an empty shell, revealing the inner mechanical components locked onto the other side. "Let's see what we've got here." He picked up the pen from the floor and pointed it inside the half-sphere that housed the device's innards. The pen illuminated the electronic guts of the machine with a dim red line of laser light that swept up and down. A high-pitched beep came from the kit by his knee. A small viewscreen on the kit blinked on, displaying data from the scanned device. Jordan picked up the kit and looked over the data. "Look at all these sensors. Bio-scans, acoustic, infra-red, laser distance. There's also a central processor and on board memory." Jordan looked up the Kaax attendant.

"These are intended to facilitate pilotting," Ocepaxarel clucked. "They merely scrub sensor data."

Jordan looked back at the data. "All this computing power, just for a remote controlled device?"

"I did not design the devices, but I can only assume the engineers had their reasons."

"Be that as it may, this is way above regulation limits."

"There must be some kind of mistake. These cleaning units are perfectly safe."

"According to whom?" Jordan looked up.

"According to our best technicians." The bird stamped his heavy foot onto the ground. "These devices promote the efficiency and cleanliness of our station. They are hygienic, they increase productivity, and above all, they are safe. Would you prefer that we let foreign germs accumulate? That this station become a festering can of alien disease, and disgusting bacteria? Safety is our highest concern. That is why we use these devices."

"Well, that may seem like a good idea, until one of them malfunctions and classifies one of your visitors as a foreign bacteria."

"Are you implying that our technicians are incompetent?"

"Not at all. But the regulations determine what risks are acceptable, not your technicians. And these units aren't up to code." Jordan placed the utility pen back into the kit and snapped it closed.

"Because of some ill-founded fear that they will improperly identify pathogens?" Ocepaxarel's clucking was growing louder and more agitated.

"That was just an example. Another concern is hackers."

"Our technicians have accounted for these possibilities."

"I don't make the rules." Jordan stood up, placing the kit back into his pocket. "These units are considered a security risk. Not according to me: according to the regulations. If you really feel they're safe, you can apply for a license. The tribunal is there to hear your claims."

"Ah, yes. The compliance tribunal. So we are to pay a lawyer to put forward our case, we are to pay the tribunal to to hear it, and we are to pay for the license -if one is provided at all."

Jordan felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Derek there.

"Jordan," Derek's gaze darted from left to right, "I'm getting a bad vibe." More of the Kaax had gathered around them, watching Ocepaxarel growing angry with the three human interlopers. The incessant clucking in their vicinity had died down to an ominous clicking of talons on metal. The bird heads in the crowd tilted and twitched, blinking rapidly as they looked down at the humans. "I think we should go." Derek placed his hand on the grip of the laser pistol at his belt. The feathered aliens peered down from all directions, pointed beaks hanging slightly open, with pink tongues flopping about inside.

"I agree with your friend," Ocepaxarel clucked. "I believe we are finished here."

"Right." Jordan felt a wave of adrenaline rush through him as he surveyed the sea of feathered bodies. He couldn't see past the mass of surrounding Kaax, which now formed a solid wall around them. He took a deep breath. "I don't think there is anything left to discuss. So, if you'll excuse us."

The three of them turned, starting to make their way back to the bay, where their shuttle waited at the far end of the station. The wall of birds behind them remained solid, blocking their exit. The creatures towered above, looking down with beady eyes.

Ocepaxarel spoke from behind them. "We appreciate our continuing good relationship with the Sol Federation. I hope that our difference in station management philosophy does not become a point of contention."

Jordan looked over to Quintin and Nick. Their hands gripped their laser pistols, which they had pulled two finger widths from their holsers. "Of course not," Jordan said.

"Excellent," Ocepaxarel clucked. "Then as a show of good faith, we will permit your ship access through the gate without charge: our gift in exchange for your understanding and discretion on this matter."

"That's very gracious of you." Jordan leaned away from the wall of Kaax, whose sharp beaks were within inches of his face.

"But please," Ocepaxarel continued, "if you would schedule your next assessment in advance, we could avoid any further misunderstandings. Is this an acceptable arrangement?"

"Yes," Jordan answered. He felt a large drip of spittle land on his shoulder, and the warm breath from a beaked head right next to his. "Yes, that's an acceptable arrangement."

"Good!" Ocepaxarel clucked. He gave a loud, untranslated command, and the gathered wall of Kaax dispersed, returning to the buzz of the market. Jordan walked quickly towards the bay with Derek and Nick close at his side, adrenaline still pumping. Just get to the shuttle, he thought to himself, pushing through the crowd. He brushed past more of the massive, feathered bodies. The shuttle bay was only fifty paces away. I think I might stick to corporate after all.